


Slytherins don’t have friends, right?

by Readingfanfics



Series: Prompts [78]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Beginning Friendship, Greg being a good friend, M/M, Potterlock, happy ish ending, mycroft is sad and angry, teenagers are the worst to each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 10:13:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17405012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readingfanfics/pseuds/Readingfanfics
Summary: Teenagers are the worst to each other and Mycroft finds out just how bad they can be. At least he has a true friend in Greg Lestrade.





	Slytherins don’t have friends, right?

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet is inspired by a drawing made by myteapotthings on Tumblr. Her sad teenage Mycroft needed a bit of companionship and understanding so naturally, I went for Greg Lestrade. (https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/myteapotthings/181929305231)
> 
>  
> 
> Let's pretend that Moriarty is some sort of new Voldemort and somehow gained Sherlock's trust and it all backfired, okay?

“Mycroft?” Greg carefully opened the door, peaking inside the room for a second before quickly stepping inside and closing it with a spell. He’d seen the younger Slytherin run out the Grand Hall halfway into the Winterball and was about to go after him when he’d heard Anthea’s voice above all the rest. By the time he was there she was also crying, anger radiating of her in waves as she wiped away her tears. His stomach had dropped when he’d noticed the badges lying on the floor in front of her, a moving image of Sherlock displayed, TRAITOR appearing in big green letters. He’d been just in time to stop Anthea from raising her wand and getting herself expelled, dragging her out of the Grand Hall and into the hallway. 

 

“You okay, Anthea? Did they hurt you?” 

 

“Of course they hurt me! Look at this!” She’d yelled at him, shoving one of the badges in his hands. He couldn’t bear to look at it again, heart hammering away in his chest. “They don’t know the first thing of what happened that night! None of them do! He- he didn’t have any choice, Greg. He was just a kid. A kid with amazing talents and people took advantage of him!  _ Moriarty  _ took advantage of him.” She’d spat out the name like it was poison, her make-up ruined as tears rolled down her cheeks. He’d taken Anthea into his arms, a part of him surprised that she even let him, letting her cry on his shoulder, not saying anything. 

 

“Did Mycroft see them?” Greg had asked, heart sinking when Anthea nodded, anger making her blue eyes sparkle brightly. She’d given him the password to their rooms, promising him that she wouldn’t go back in there and do something stupid. Molly showed up just at the right time, taking Anthea under her wing as they went to the Hufflepuff dorm. 

 

“What- How did you get in here?” Mycroft asked, his voice thin from crying, sitting up as Greg came closer to his bed. His eyes were red and puffy, cheeks stained with tears and Greg stepped forward, sitting down next to him and placing a hand on Mycroft’s shoulder. 

 

“I’m so sorry, Mycroft. They are animals.” 

 

“Animals aren’t this cruel,” Mycroft whispered, pulling out a badge from his robes, staring at it for a few seconds before throwing it across the room and getting up, his body tense and ready to fight. 

 

“Mycroft.”

 

“Why are you here? How even? You’re not a Slytherin.” 

 

“Anthea gave me the password. And why do you think I’m here, Mycroft? You’re my friend and you’re hurting. Of course, I’m here.” 

 

“Slytherins don’t have friends.” Mycroft spat out, turning his back to Greg. Greg let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair before standing up and stepping around Mycroft, willing him to look up and face him. Mycroft kept his eyes on the nature poster above Greg’s right shoulder. 

 

“Those idiots don’t matter, Mycroft. They don’t know who you are or who Sherlock is.”

 

“And you do?” There was venom in Mycroft’s words that made Greg shiver but he nodded his head, touching Mycroft’s arm. He nodded again when Mycroft’s eyes met his, seeing a micro-moment of relief in those blue eyes. 

 

“You’re a good person, Mycroft. So is your brother. He was just in a bad situation. He did what he thought was best at the time, to protect you and all of us. The trial will prove that.” Greg squeezed Mycroft’s arm, giving a confident nod. 

 

“You’re so sure,” Mycroft whispered, a hint of guilt in his voice as he continued. “You never doubted him, not even from the start when everything was chaotic and blurry and we didn’t know what to believe. You never doubted my brother. I can’t-”

 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Mycroft. Giving your history together it’s normal that-”

 

“No,” Mycroft interrupted, anger in his voice. “He's my brother and I didn’t believe in his innocence. The look on his face when he realized I didn’t- By Merlin, I’ve been such a fool.” Mycroft got out of Greg’s hold, walking to the far side of the room to pick the badge up.

 

“They were wrong you know?” Mycroft whispered, staring at the badge in his hand before looking up at Greg. “Sherlock wasn’t the traitor. I am, for not believing in him. Incendio!”

 

“Dammit, Mycroft!” Greg called out as the badge dropped to the floor, fire turning it into nothing. “A bit of a warning would have been nice. COuld have burned the whole place down.” Greg mumbled, watching as the last of the flames died down. 

 

“You give me too much credit. I’m not that powerful, yet.” Mycroft gave a little smirk as he cleaned up the mess, the only evidence of what had happened a tiny black spot on the green carpet. 

 

“So you do have a sense of humor,” Greg replied, smiling when Mycroft throw him an annoyed look, putting his wand back into his pocket. 

 

“You should go back to the Ball, Gregory. No sense in you missing the whole thing.” 

 

“Do you really expect me to go back in there after what happened? Sherlock’s my friend, Mycroft. seeing those badges made me sick, I can’t imagine how you are feeling. No, I don’t want to go back to the party. I’d rather spend some time with you. If that’s okay?” Greg asked, suddenly unsure as Mycroft stood still and watched him, blinking his eyes rapidly. 

 

“You okay?” 

 

“I. Yes, yes of course.” Mycroft stuttered, his cheeks going a soft pink as he gestured around the room. “What would you like to do?”

 

“I don’t know? Listen to Witching Hour?” 

 

“I can’t stand Glenda Chittock.” 

 

“Then something else? Talk for a bit? Play a game of chess? I’m sure you’ll kick my arse but it could be fun?” Greg replied, grinning when Mycroft’s cheeks turned a deeper pink. 

 

“A game of chess would be nice. I- Thank you. For- for being here.” Mycroft explained, the dark pink on his cheeks turning red. Greg’s fingers itched to touch it, feel if it was as warm as it looked but he restrained himself. Now was not the time. Maybe later, after the trial was over and they’d had time to settle. 

 

“You’re welcome, Mycroft. Now, ready to kick my arse at chess?”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


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